


Worship

by Sarah_Startling



Category: Keanu Reeves - Fandom
Genre: Consensual Sex, F/M, First Meetings, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23017336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_Startling/pseuds/Sarah_Startling
Summary: You've had a terrible day. And the last thing you thought you needed was to bump into a stranger and drop everything you're carrying. But, this stranger holds a promise in his dark eyes.
Relationships: Keanu Reeves/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Worship

It was raining. And I had never been in a worse mood. My coffee had spilled, traffic was bad, and I was running late. My boss was a jerk all day, and five o’clock took its sweet time. It was still raining when I left work, soaking me to the bone.

And then, to top it all off, some asshole bumped into me on my way into my building.

My books scatter to the floor, papers aflutter. I dropped to my knees, scrambling to return everything to order. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. 

A gentle hand touches mine. I jerk back, ready to fight or fly. But his eyes stop the breath in my throat.

I can’t believe it.

His brow is knit, concern permeating his being. “Are you alright?”

My tongue is thick in my mouth. “Um, y-yeah.”

He offers a slight smile, almost hidden behind his facial hair. He shakes his head, voice low. “I’m so sorry about this. You in a hurry, or can I buy you a drink?”

I tuck a stray hair behind my ear, fully aware that I am now dripping water from the rain onto my take-home work. “I was in a hurry, but just to get home. Today has been one of those days.”

He scoops up the remaining papers and neatly shuffles them into place. He gets to his feet, a graceful move that unveils his towering height. He extends his hand, and mine looks impossibly small as he helps me to my feet.

“Sounds like you could use a drink. I was just about to head to one of my favorite spots in the city. Care to join me?”

I’m trembling, but I can’t tell if it’s from the chill of rainwater or the lean, colossus of a man in front of me.

“I’d love that, actually.” I look over my shoulder at the pouring rain outside. “Would it be an imposition for me to pop upstairs and change clothes?”

“Not at all.” His voice is smooth, and pours off his tongue with ease. “I’d hate for you to catch a cold on my behalf.”

I’m certain that we exchange names, though everything sounds garbled and panicked in my head. I knew his name the moment I laid eyes on him. We manage a hand shake, my papers and books threatening to go astray. 

“I’ll have the car brought around. Take your time.”

\--

The bar is quiet, with low lighting. His table is kept on retainer for him, a small nook in the very back. There’s plush, red draping all around, flickering candlelight on the table. A pianist sits at a grand piano, jacket off and collar unbuttoned. I can’t quite place the song, though.

I swirl the wine in my glass, watching the legs of wine drip down the sides, then meet his eyes. “You were right. This is just what I needed.”

That smile again. My heart thumps loudly in my chest, so loud I wonder if even the pianist can hear it. “I’m glad. Sometimes it only takes a small thing to turn an awful day around.”

I smile and duck my head, and look up at him from under my eyelashes. God, I’m glad I took the time to use waterproof mascara this morning. “I really can’t thank you enough.”

He waves his hand, a soft dismissal. 

“To be quite frank, I needed this as well. I won’t bore you with the details, but today was no walk in the park for me, either.”

He sips his scotch, dwarfing the glass with his hands. God, I never imagined how big his hands would be. 

God, those hands.

A thrill shoots through me, and I shake my head to clear my mind of the image of his hands making their way over the peaks and valleys of my body.

“Still, I can’t help but feel indebted to you. You’ve been so kind, and I was a soggy dishtowel when you found me.”

He lets out a low chuckle. “Prettiest dishtowel I’ve ever seen.”

My cheeks go warm, and I’m thankful for the low lighting. “You must be quite the connoisseur of dishtowels, then.”

“Connoisseur, collector, and some days, holy worshipper.”

I tilt my head back and laugh. “And how does one worship a dishtowel?”

“I’m afraid I’d have to show you first hand.” 

His eyes catch the candlelight, and I can’t help but lean forward. I point my wine glass at him, mischief in my voice. “I dare say I would take you up on that.”

He knocks back the rest of his scotch, then leans forward on his elbows. He interlaces his fingers, running his thumb across his bottom lip. He’s suddenly serious, piercing me with his darkened gaze. I resist the urge to audibly gulp, and settle for tipping back the rest of my wine.

“Tell me you’re free tonight.” 

His voice is little more than a growl. His dark eyes grow even darker. Instantly I am magnetized. I lean forward, and mimic his stance. Elbows on table, fingers interlaced. I cock my head to the side just so. What other answer would there be? 

“I am.”

“May I have the pleasure of your company?” 

I am enraptured by his lips, the quick dart of tongue that wettens them. Desire unfurls in my stomach. This man could ask anything of me, and I would say yes.

“You may.”

A smile spreads across his face. “I hoped you’d say that.” He gets to his feet, a handful of bills discarded on the table, and offers me his hand. “Come.”

\--

His flat lights up as we walk in. The lights stay low, offering just a glimpse of rich red wood and tall, overfilled bookcases. He shows me to the couch, then busies himself with making us drinks, lighting a few candles, and turning music on low. The way he moves in his space is like watching a jaguar prowl a cage. He is power, reigned in and controlled.

Finally, he places a glass of wine in my hands and sits next to me on the couch. A wave of his scent washes over me, and I want to bury myself into his shirt. We are so close as to be almost touching, but he has kept himself just far enough away that I find myself yearning for his touch.

He loosens his tie around his neck and clears his throat. 

“For the honor, and the opportunity to spend this time with you,” he takes my hand and brings my fingers to his lips. “Thank you.”

A tiny gasp escapes me. His eyes sparkle, aware of the effect he has on me. His lips curve up into a smile, and I cannot help myself any longer.

I lean forward and touch my lips to his. They are soft and full, and he breathes a growl into my mouth. His hands come up, and he wraps fingers into my hair. His grip is firm and sure, and I find myself panting.

We kiss feverishly, each attempting to devour the other. He tightens his grip in my hair, and I follow his lead, moving to straddle him on the couch. I lower my weight onto him, feeling the expanse of muscles beneath his shirt. He arches his hips to meet mine, and we begin to move together. 

I moan as he brushes against me with the full strength of his desire. 

God, I need him.

He latches his teeth onto my bottom lip and pulls my dress up over my hips. His hands are warm on my thighs, cupping my ass. In a single motion, he’s on his feet, and I’m in his arms. He brings me to the smooth stone of the wall and pins me there. I push his suit jacket off of his shoulders and he holds me to the wall with his hips while he lets it drop to the ground.

My hands are at his shirt, and I rip it open, buttons flying. He lets it puddle around his feet, then tears at my dress. Up it goes over my shoulders, revealing my lacy brassiere. He captures my hands in the tangle of my dress, and holds them above my head. 

He takes his free hand and grips my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I must have you.”

The first words that pop into my head spill out of my mouth. “I’m yours.”

A triumphant smile spreads across his face. He lets my chin and hands free and hoists me up again. He carries me down the hall, kicking the door to his bedroom open without taking his lips off mine. 

We tumble onto the bed, my legs still wrapped around his lean form. His body weight presses into me, and I want nothing else than to have all of him. 

Then the weight of his body is gone and I let out a whimper - I feel bereft without him pressing down onto me. He’s pulling my panties off of me, though, and before I know what is happening, the heat of his mouth finds my center.

I grip the sheets as he pushes me to the brink of orgasm. His tongue is persistent and skilled, carrying me through the waves of pleasure. He adds a finger, then two, finding the spot that makes the entire world tilt in my vision. 

My orgasm shreds through me, leaving me shaky and heaving. He looks up at me from between my legs, a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face. I meet his eyes, and he delicately sucks the taste of me from his fingers.

“Kiss me.” I’m surprised by my brazen words.

He crawls up the length of my body, shedding the rest of his clothes as he goes. With one deft motion, he springs my breasts free of my bra, and I drown in the sensation of his skin on mine. The taste of me on his lips is shockingly erotic, and I know that I must have him inside of me without delay.

He slips between my legs, and positions himself to take me. In that moment, he stops, eyes dark and careful. He takes a breath, as if he’s savoring the moment, then looks to me with a question in his eyes.

I give the tiniest nod, my body wound tight with expectation. The corner of his mouth quirks up, as if there had been doubt in his mind that he wasn’t worthy of this moment with me. 

And then he sinks into me. We both groan, clutching each other as we adjust. His length is velvet and warm, and it stretches me with delicious agony. 

I stare into his eyes, and that’s when I see it: this is his worship. He looks like a fallen angel, his devastating beauty turned to darkness. And in his arms, I feel like the most precious treasure that has ever existed. 

We begin moving as one, our bodies synching up in perfect rhythm. His mouth is on mine, then on my neck and up to my ear. He extolls my beauty and my perfection in a vervent whisper, sounding as if he were in confessional and his sin was merely gazing upon me. 

Our pace turns frenetic, frenzied. I rake my nails down his back, begging him for more, deeper faster. I am building to an earth shattering orgasm, and I’ll be damned if I go this one alone.

My voice is full of desperate need. “P-please.” 

At that, he grabs my legs, and hooks them onto his shoulders. His pace increases as he goes ever deeper inside of me, and I know that we are both close to climax.

“I- I’m gonna-” his voice cuts out.

“Me too, I-” my voice fails me too.

He takes my hands, and we cling to each other as the world falls apart around us. My vision explodes with stars, and he presses my hand to his mouth as he cries out. He grips me hard, body convulsing, as if I’m the only thing keeping him anchored to this mortal coil.

Moments pass - or maybe years - before we begin the descent back to reality.

My legs are heavy as he carefully lowers them to the bed. He is covered in a sheen of sweat, and his muscles glisten in the soft moonlight. He crawls up to lay at my side, and I pull his arms around me. The room is silent but for the sounds of us breathing. 

He cradles my face in his hands, and peppers my cheeks, eyes, nose and lips with soft, gentle kisses. My eyes are heavy, and I find myself drifting off. He pulls a blanket over us, our legs entwined and hearts still beating hard, and eventually, sleep claims us both.


End file.
